by Noelle Adams
Bittersweet
Noelle Adams
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Noelle Adams. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks referenced in this work of fiction: Wheely Bug, Frisbee, Cheerios, and The Peabody.
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Epilogue
One
Five years earlier
“What British novelist also invented the mailbox?”
Zoe had been eating her salad, but at this question she set down her fork. “Wait, I know this one. My professor talked about it in lit class last year.”
She’d been trying for cool indifference—as if knowing the answer to Adam’s trivia question was second-nature to her—but her voice reflected obvious excitement.
She couldn’t help it. Adam had been asking her random trivia questions for two months, and this was the first one she actually might know.
Adam wasn’t smiling, but his eyes—so dark a brown they were almost black—warmed in amusement. “I’ll clarify that we’re talking about the red pillar mailboxes in England.”
“Yeah. I know this.”
“So who is it?”
“It’s Thackeray. No, wait, that’s wrong. That wasn’t my answer.” She racked her mind, searching for the name she remembered hearing in class last year.
Zoe always did fine in school—getting B’s without straining too much—but she’d never been academically inclined and certainly didn’t collect various snippets of knowledge for the sole purpose of knowing them the way Adam did.
“I’m waiting,” he said, an irresistible edge of teasing in his voice.
“I know this.” She stared down at the strawberries and pecans on her salad. “We didn’t actually read this guy’s books—my professor just mentioned it in passing. When he was talking about Dickens, I think. I know it.”
“If you know, then you better tell me.”
She curled her lip to show she wasn’t pleased with being rushed, but was soon distracted by searching her memory. “Wait, I know. Tramp…trollop…Trollope!”
Adam laughed uninhibitedly—the sound washing over her and giving her a distinct kind of pleasure. “Right. It was a strange way to get there, but you got there.”
Zoe threw her hands in the air. “Ha. Victory!”
The other diners in the café turned around at her outburst, but Zoe didn’t care about the attention she’d drawn. Getting one of Adam’s trivia questions correct was worthy of a celebratory gesture.
Zoe was an assistant department manager at the upscale department store next door, and she always came to the café for her lunch break when she was scheduled to work midday hours.
A couple of months ago, she’d noticed a brown-haired guy had started to show up to eat lunch at the same time. He was always reading or working on a laptop, and he was just slightly geeky with his impressive array of camp shirts and his intent focus on his thick books—just geeky enough to be adorable.
One day, he’d come over to ask if he could have the salt from her table.
The next day, he came over to ask her for the salt again.
The third day, she asked him why he didn’t grab the salt before he sat down.
They’d started having lunch together after that.
At first, Zoe assumed he was interested in her and would be asking her out. He wasn’t really her type. She’d always dated athletes in high school and college.
But, from the first time she’d talked to him, she was awed by how smart he was. Plus, he was funny and very attractive with his amazing dark eyes, lighter brown hair, and very fine shoulders. He also seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, which wasn’t always her experience with guys.
She didn’t think he was her destined soul mate or anything, but if he’d asked her out, she definitely would have said yes.
He never did, so more than a month ago he’d moved in her mind from “potential date” to “casual lunch buddy.”
Still reveling in her trivia victory, Zoe picked up her fork to finish her salad.
“How did your history midterm go?” Adam asked, after finishing off the last of his sandwich.
She nodded until she swallowed her bite. “It was fine, I think. I didn’t do great, but I’m pretty sure I passed.”
She’d been working at the department store since she was a freshman in college in order to make some extra money to buy the clothes and shoes she wanted. A few months ago, the store had wanted to promote her. She hadn’t yet graduated, but—after long conversations with her parents and her friends—she’d decided to take the job with its longer hours and finish college part-time.
She actually liked working retail. She loved designer clothes—loved them—and she was really good at working with customers and keeping her department running smoothly.
It was a good job, and there was a lot of potential for her to advance in the store chain. She hadn’t lived on campus since her freshman year, so her social life wasn’t affected by the transition. She didn’t mind taking classes in the evening, but she didn’t always study as much as she should.
“If you’d told me the exam was coming up earlier,” Adam said, “I could have helped you study over lunch.”
She laughed. “You just want any excuse to show off.”
His dark eyes warmed again in that way he had—which made it seem like he was smiling even when he wasn’t. “Now what could I possibly want to show off?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe your freakish knowledge of all areas of history. I thought you were working on your MBA. How do you know so much history anyway?”
He glanced away, looking slightly diffident. “I read a lot. Plus, I got a Master’s in history before I started the MBA.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. Adam didn’t share much personal information with her, but she’d put together the facts she knew into a rough timeline to estimate his age. She’d been thinking he was around twenty-four, three years older than her. But she now bumped it up to twenty-six.
“If you’re such a history buff, why are you doing the MBA?” It was a personal question—more personal than anything she’d asked him before.
For a moment, she was nervous, wondering if their casual relationship would allow it.
He didn’t hesitate before he answered. “History was for me. The MBA is for my family.”
“Oh. That’s a pretty big thing to do, just because your family wants you to.”
“Yeah, I guess. My dad always wanted me to do it. He died a couple of years ago, so I thought…”
He trailed off, but Zoe understood anyway. He’d gone against his family’s wishes by going into history, and the MBA was a gesture of loyalty now that his father was dead.
For some reason, it touched her. That Adam loved his family so much. For the first time, she looked at him with something more than amusement and interest—with something deeper.
“What does your mom think?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t intruding on his privacy but wanting to know more.
“She died
too. Same time as my dad.” When she gasped, he added in explanation, “It was a boating accident.”
Details clicked in Zoe’s mind then. A boating accident. Two years ago. “Is your…is your last name Peterson?”
Adam let out a texture sigh and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t look upset by her discovery. Just slightly rueful. “Guilty.”
Zoe had heard about the Petersons. Everyone who spent any time in the area had heard about the Petersons. They were a kind of first-family for the city, with a long history in business development and local politics. Harold Peterson, who must be Adam’s grandfather, had spent decades as the mayor.
“Wow,” she breathed. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah. I know you didn’t.”
When she just looked at him, trying to reconcile her lunch buddy with this local dynasty, he gave a half-shrug. “It’s really not that big a deal.”
She realized she was making him uncomfortable, so she pulled it together. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
His expression changed, softened. “Thanks. They were great. I still miss them.”
Both of Zoe’s parents were still alive, and she was really close with both of them, so her heart went out to him. “Your grandfather is still alive, right?”
“Yeah. He’s thrilled about the MBA. I’m sure he has visions of my becoming a pillar of society and maybe going into local politics.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know. Not the politics thing, no. But the MBA has actually been rather helpful. My cousin and I have started a company.”
“Really? What’s that?”
He looked a little sheepish—like he was really proud of something and slightly self-conscious because of it. But he pulled something up on his laptop and moved it over so she could see.
She looked at the screen and saw what appeared to be a video game.
Adam explained, “Josh, my cousin, is a tech guy, so he did all the coding. We’ve already started to launch it, and so far it’s going pretty well. It’s called Light Switch.”
Zoe clicked a few times, just to see what happened. Her eyebrows arched as a question popped up on the screen.
“It’s a trivia-based game,” he added.
She started to laugh. “It looks great. Very cool.”
“I can send it to you, so you can try it out, if you want.”
Her eyes rested on him, and she felt a strange surge of fondness, kinship. He looked so pleased with himself but was trying to play it cool—just the way she’d felt when the store had wanted to promote her.
“Yeah. I’d like that.”
“I’ll need your email address.”
She gave it to him. “It’s nice you could partner with your cousin.”
“Yeah.” Adam finished typing her email address and put the laptop away. “He’s actually supposed to come by in a few minutes so we can do some work on Light Switch plans.”
“I’ve got dozens of cousins, but I only talk to them maybe once a year. How great that you two are friends.”
“I don’t know if we’re really friends yet. I don’t know him as well as I’d like. His mom cut ties with us—the rest of the family, I mean—so I didn’t know him at all growing up. He’s been kind of hard to get to know. I think maybe he resents that he had a harder time growing up—since she wouldn’t accept any help from the family. He always says he’s not a ‘real’ Peterson. But it’s getting better now. He likes the idea of the game, and he did a really good job with it.”
“I can’t believe you invented a game and set up your own company. I’m pretty impressed.”
“We’re actually having a get-together on Saturday night for everyone who worked on it to celebrate the launch. Maybe—”
When his eyes slanted over to the door to the café and he cut off whatever he was saying, Zoe turned automatically to see what had diverted him.
When she saw the young man who entered, she realized it must be Adam’s cousin.
He was the best-looking guy she’d ever seen in real life.
As he approached, she did a quick assessment of her appearance. She wore a cashmere twin-set and pencil skirt that she thought were flattering. She wasn’t as tall as she’d like, so she always wore high heels to compensate, and her shoes today were new.
She smoothed down her fair hair—even though it was ruler-straight and had never shown the slightest tendency to wave or curl in her life.
Deciding she looked as good as she could for the moment, she turned to be introduced to Adam’s gorgeous cousin.
Adam was obviously not interested in her romantically—having not made any sort of move in two months—but that didn’t mean his cousin wouldn’t be.
He grinned as he approached their table, his smile absolutely breathtaking.
“Well, hello,” he said, his hazel eyes resting on her face with obvious interest. “I’m Josh.”
Two
Present day
The grating sound of a ring tone woke Zoe from a tense, restless sleep.
She fumbled blindly on the coffee table, where she was sure she’d left her phone. Her head hurt, however, and she wasn’t yet fully awake, so it took about eight rings until she found it.
“Hello,” she mumbled, when she finally laid her hands on it.
“Zoe? Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Hey, Mom. Sorry. I’d fallen asleep.” Zoe forced herself to sit up from where she was stretched out on the couch. Her whole body ached, and she could still barely pry her eyes open. “What time is it?”
“It’s already three. Are you sure you’re all right?” Her mother’s voice was gentle, which was an obvious sign of how concerned she was.
Zoe hated feeling like people were pitying her—even someone she loved and trusted as much as her mother. So her tone was a little terse when she replied, “Yes, I already said I’m all right. I just need to wake up so I can feed Logan and get dressed before they come pick me up.”
“Sorry if I’m nagging. I just wish I could help. I don’t know how you’ve made it through this horrible, wretched year.”
Zoe didn’t know how she’d made it through this year either. “I know. But now I just have to make it through the funeral. And then maybe…” She trailed off, having no idea what was left to hope for after she buried her husband.
“Maybe what?”
Swallowing hard, Zoe finished, “Maybe I can breathe again.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. A silence Zoe recognized as her mom trying not to cry. The knowledge made Zoe’s eyes burn too, and a lump lodged hard in her throat.
But she’d cried so much and so often over the last eight months that she had no real tears remaining. She sat on the couch in sloppy sweats and a t-shirt and tried to take a full breath.
“Do you want me to come over now?” her mother asked at last.
“No. I’ve got to rush as it is. I’ll just see you at the church.” Zoe forced herself to stand up, although her stiff back protested the move. “Thanks, though.”
When she’d hung up, Zoe made her way into the bedroom.
The bedroom and the bathroom were the only individual rooms in the spacious loft apartment. She and Josh had bought the place almost three years ago, as a one-year anniversary present to themselves, after the Light Switch game had really taken off and they could afford it. They both had fallen in love with the historic hardwood floors, the exposed brick and ductwork, and the huge expanse of windows looking out onto the skyline.
They’d been thinking about selling it and buying a bigger place outside the city when Josh had been diagnosed with a malignant tumor in his brain. For the eight months of surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy that followed, moving was the last thing on Zoe’s mind.
The bedroom was big and airy, and in the corner was a crib.
She heard Logan whimpering and was glad she wouldn’t have to wake him up in order to nurse him. He was six months old now. Taking care of an infant at the sam
e time she watched her husband slowly die had almost broken Zoe.
She loved Logan so much, though. Josh had loved him too.
Logan stared up at her now with wide brown eyes in a chubby face. He twisted in an ornery way when she just stood and looked at him. Then he started to scream.
A perfectly reasonable thing to do when you were hungry.
Zoe picked him up and carried him to the rocker to nurse him, trying not to remember the look on her husband’s face last week, the last time he had been conscious, when Logan had babbled syllables that sounded very much like “Dada.”
Logan was suckling greedily, dribbling a little breast milk as he did, and Zoe stroked his fine dark hair and tried not to fall back to sleep.
She hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since Logan was born.
When he’d finished, she burped him and laid him back in the crib, turning on the musical mobile of animals so he could watch it. He was giggling happily over the mobile as she jumped into the shower.
Long showers were something she hadn’t enjoyed since Logan was born either, so three minutes later she was done. She blew her hair just halfway dry and then pulled it back into knot at the nape her neck. Until recently, it had always been smooth and shiny, falling nearly to her waist, but now it looked dull and lifeless. She added a little makeup, although her face was so pale and the dark smudges beneath her chocolate brown eyes were so deep there wasn’t much she could do to improve her appearance.
She’d lost too much weight over the past several months, and the navy blue suit she put on—which had been stylish and fit her perfectly when she’d bought it two years ago—was now too loose around the hips and waist and looked rather drab.
It didn’t matter, though. There wasn’t anyone she wanted to impress. She just wanted to get through this day without collapsing in exhaustion.
She was changing Logan’s diaper when her phone rang again.
“Mrs. Peterson?” a man said when she picked up. The doorman to the building.
“Yes.”
“The car is here.”
She thanked him and hurriedly dressed Logan in a little gray suit. Then she put him in his carrier, grabbed the bag she’d already packed with all his stuff, and rushed downstairs.
